Maybe something inhere will brighten your night.

When I close my eyes at nightI can feel the rock being cut openby water.

I hear a grandfather songand it sounds like sandwalking downthe river bottom.

In this song they talk about howeven the mighty canyon walls are formedby meandering streams.

Beneath the gentle waters there are people.Not people like you and I.

Stone people.

When I close my eyes at nightI am one of themand God is the water.

Over lifetimesShe eats away at meuntil I am polishedand smooth.

She teaches meabout being gentle and persistent,about patience and commitment.

She speaks to mein trickle languageand says:

“Journeys.Take them.And try to rememberwho you arealong the way.

I have nothing for youbut these words.

Take them with youand I will see you againwhen you arriveat the ocean’s throne asone million kernels of sand.”

Her voicehums in my bloodquiet as a stream in the nightand it is a song about howwe are alljustso loved.

The eagles dip their talons into Her soft bodyand pull from it a fisha fleshmealfor their children.

They sing this grandfather song with herand it sounds like featherscutting into the sky.

In this song they talk about how even hatred surrenders to wonder.

She is breaking my heart apart likea stubborn puzzle of problems. Even the hardestdoubts and sorrowsgive way to Her infinite grace.

And who knew that sometimesgrace can come fromstanding in the wind untileverything we think we ownis ripped away from us andreplaced with a weightlessnessso profound thatwe can’t not cry tearsof absolute praiseand run all around theriver banks shoutingto the minnowsand the cattailsand the crawdadsabout the truth of beauty!?

About the truth of a God thatbreathes through the trees.

The truth of a God thatweaves winter from water and nightweaves bodies from dust and lightand carries us down the river of lifeover and overuntil we finally understandthe meaning of forever.

In the language of the stones there is no word for mistake.Only the complete understanding of what itmeans to be a beloved son or daughter.

I have very quickly become an admirer of your humanity and wisdom, but have only just today discovered your poetry. Having written poetry most of my life and devoted so much of my life to its service, by writing, publishing others, conducting workshops and hosting poetry readings, I was very excited to read your work. I haven't read everything (yet) but I am most fond of "Sodizin" and "and god is the water." Tomorrow night (Saturday, November 5, 2016), in Evergreen, Colorado, following a featured reading by three women who publish with Turkey Buzzard Press (an endeavor I founded), I plan to read those two poems by you during the open mic. I hope you don't mind. Your poetry is beautiful and so important these troublesome days. I follow you on Facebook, and your postings have brought me to tears more than once, even though I'm a grown, bearded and balding man! I know you're in North Dakota right now, helping the courageous, but the reading will be live-streamed on the Facebook page of Where the Books Go, the used bookstore where we hold these readings, if it's possible for you to watch it. The reading will also be archived there, so you may see it another time, if that is more convenient. And if you're ever in Evergreen, Colorado, or nearby, I will do whatever I can to set up a reading for you, if you'd like. Whatever I can do. I see in you the best direction for humanity.